


Like Puzzle Pieces From the Clay

by lookninjas



Series: The One Where They're All Strippers [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-04 22:06:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1794838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookninjas/pseuds/lookninjas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're probably moving too fast, but Kurt doesn't really care, as long as they're on the same page.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Puzzle Pieces From the Clay

**Author's Note:**

> Part of The One Where They're All Strippers. Title comes from "Such Great Heights," originally by the Postal Service (although I've mainly been listening to the Iron and Wine version.)

Neither of them has had that much to drink, but they're both a little loose as they stumble into Kurt's apartment, Blaine in front with Kurt's hand on his back, rubbing circles against his shirt as Blaine laughs and tries to keep his feet under him.  "I _told_ you," Blaine says, barely managing to turn himself around so he's right up against Kurt's chest, and he's just that little bit shorter than Kurt, just enough that his hot, boozy breath hits Kurt right beneath the chin, and Kurt had no idea that that did things to him, but apparently it does, because he's tightening his left arm around Blaine's waist even as his right arm fumbles to close the door and find the light switch on the wall behind him.  "I told you, didn't I tell you, this is why I can't drink, because I _always_ \--"  Kurt finally manages to bring his flailing hand in contact with the switch, and the room is flooded with light from the bare bulb on the ceiling; he winces, and Blaine buries his face in Kurt's chest, groaning and chuckling and muttering, "Okay.  Wow.  _Light_."  
  
"I --"  Kurt peels himself away from Blaine and pushes him ahead through the tiny vestibule and into the apartment proper, hesitating just long enough to reach back and lock the door, turn the deadbolt.  It's not the worst neighborhood to live in, but it isn't the best either, and Kurt's careful, like his father always told him to be.  "Give me just a second," he adds, hurrying to catch up with and then shoulder past Blaine and into the main room of his little efficiency.  "I've got -- there's lamps, I'll just..."    
  
He kicks off his shoes and toes on the little power strip by his dresser, turning on the multicolored Christmas lights that hang around his room, and maybe they're a little juvenile (especially compared to Cooper's house, with its blues and whites and muted yellows and subdued masculine tastefulness), and maybe the cheap paper lantern in the corner is even worse, and the standing lamp by the sewing table isn't awful but it is just Ikea, and oh God his sewing table is a mess, and the muslin for his latest comission is still pinned on his dress form, and he hasn't done laundry for a while so if Blaine goes peeking behind his folding screen, he's fucked, and --  
  
"Oh wow," Blaine says, and Kurt can't help but cringe a little.  Because Blaine is lovely, and warm, and genuinely enthusiastic about everything, or at least he seems that way, but that's the problem, isn't it?  Because he _seems_ that way, but Kurt doesn't really know him, and what _seems_ like enthusiasm could just as easily be --  " _Bed_ ," Blaine announces, and by the time Kurt turns around, Blaine is already starfished over his covers, shoes still on and eyes closed and an almost deliriously happy look on his face.  
  
"I was looking for a one bedroom," Kurt says, and has to fight the urge to twist his hands together nervously -- seriously, his fingers are _itching_ with the desire to pull at something, and he's sure he hasn't been this anxious since high school, "but everything I could find was...  I mean, not like this is the greatest neighborhood, or anything, but it's friendly, and honestly this seemed more spacious than some of the other places I looked at anyways, and I knew I could work with an open plan so I just..."  
  
"This," Blaine sighs, happily, rolling his shoulders back.  "This is the best bed _ever_."  
  
And Kurt's defense of his little one-room efficiency suddenly dies in his throat, because Blaine is in his _bed_.  And it's not like this is the first time, but at the same time it is, because the first time they spent the night together, they were in Blaine's hotel room, sitting together on Blaine's bed and talking quietly while Cooper snored on the other side of the room.  And then the second time, they were at Blaine and Cooper's house, in Blaine's room, and while they at least made it under the covers this time, there wasn't much more than some kissing and rolling around (and Blaine nuzzling at Kurt's neck, and Kurt still gets a full-body rush just thinking about it even though it was three days ago, almost four now, but still).  And now they're here, and Blaine is in Kurt's bed, and yes, Kurt's seen him stripped down to nothing but sparkly silver briefs, but that was different, and now he's _here_ , and Kurt can almost feel himself shutting down at all the possibilities.    
  
Blaine peeks his eyes open, lifts his arms off the bed, and reaches out for Kurt as best he can without shifting the rest of his body, his hands spreading out and then closing down over nothing, grabby and demanding and weirdly endearing.  "Kurt," he says, maybe a little whiny, and it shouldn't be cute but it is, if only because everything about Blaine Anderson is cute.  "Come here.  Please?"    
  
Kurt sighs and turns away from the standing lamp (it's bright enough in here anyway, really, or bright enough for Kurt's purposes; Blaine might be more than comfortable getting naked under the fierce glow of a spotlight, but Kurt likes to be flattered), making his way step by step towards the bed.  Blaine just watches him, arms raised and fingers outstretched.  When Kurt settles gingerly on the foot of the bed, not really sure how to proceed, Blaine makes a pleading noise and curls his shoulders up, raising his head from the pillows.  "Kurt," he says again, and this time it really is whiny, and yet it's somehow really still adorable.    
  
"You wanted me here," Kurt points out, reaching out with what he feels is very great daring and patting Blaine lightly on the knee before reaching down to pull Blaine's loafers off (because even if his shoes look clean, there's all kinds of things on the streets and sidewalks and Kurt is definitely going to have to go in to the laundromat and take care of that duvet cover sometime tomorrow, because honestly.)  "I'm here."  
  
Blaine's not wearing socks; he has long, slightly hairy toes, and he wiggles them at Kurt, and Kurt traces his fingers along the long bones on the top of Blaine's foot.  Blaine's feet smell like baby powder, not disgusting at all, and his skin is surprisingly smooth and soft.  Kurt wonders if Blaine is ticklish; he wonders if he could grab Blaine's foot right now and make him ball up on the bed and giggle and shriek and beg for mercy.  He might want to find that out, sometime. But right now it's enough to slide his hand back up and wrap his fingers around Blaine's ankle, exploring the knobby bones at the sides and the soft, tender hollows of skin just below.  Blaine shaves, of course, or maybe he waxes, and his smooth skin is endless distracting, makes Kurt want to do things that he wouldn't normally want to do. 

Would it be weird if Kurt pressed a kiss to the side of Blaine's achilles tendon?  Maybe he's supposed to be weird, though.  Maybe Blaine's _expecting_ weird.  A lot of guys do, with him, and then there's always the letdown when Kurt doesn't actually have any whips or chains, and is Blaine expecting that, because Kurt doesn't have any but he thinks this time he might actually go and buy some if Blaine really wanted him to, because he really likes Blaine, likes him more than he's liked anyone for a really long time, and --  
  
He lets his fingers slip back down again, thumb tracing the arch of Blaine's foot, and Blaine shivers but doesn't pull away.  " _Kurt_ ," he says, for the third time.  "Please?"  
  
"I'm still here," Kurt says, absently, and curls his thumb so that the sharp line of his thumbnail traces the delicate, papery skin on the sole of Blaine's foot, and Blaine lets out this soft, pleading sound that makes the base of Kurt's spine tingle, wakes up everything in him.  
  
"I want you here-er _,"_ Blaine protests, and Kurt doesn't even bother fighting the huge ridiculous smile that stretches across his face at the sound of Blaine's voice.  "More here.  Whatever.  Just.  Please, Kurt?  Please."  
  
Kurt _tsks_ under his breath, playing it cool even though he can feel his heart speeding up, his breath catching, the nerves and excitement starting to flutter through him, making his nerves fizz and spark as he climbs over Blaine's legs, settling himself with his knees just outside Blaine's hips, thighs tensed, not quite sitting on Blaine's legs (although he could, quite easily, and Blaine would let him, would want him, and oh that's something to consider, it really is).  Blaine's hands settle on his kneecaps, fingers spreading, learning the shape of him just as Kurt had familiarized himself with Blaine's ankles and the beautiful high arch of his foot.  "Better?" Kurt asks, resting his own hands on his own ankles, keeping that small separation between them.    
  
Blaine bites at his lip.  "I like looking up at you," he admits, almost shy, his head turned to the side but his eyes still on Kurt's.  "But."  His hands slip a little higher up Kurt's thighs, spreading out and around to grip Kurt behind the knees and tug him a little higher, a little further forward.  Kurt's hands slip off his ankles and he sways above Blaine, barely able to keep his balance.  "Still too far away."  
  
It's tempting to keep on teasing him, to resist a little longer.  But Blaine's hands are so warm, and his lips look so soft, and there's stubble on his cheeks and jawline and Kurt hasn't gotten to feel Blaine's stubble against his own skin yet and he wants to so badly, and really, that's far more tempting.  So he reaches back and pulls Blaine's hands away from his legs, twines their fingers together and pushes until Blaine's arms are back against the bed, their joined hands resting on the pillow on either side of Blaine's head, his legs spread out on either side of Blaine's, the warmth of Blaine's body sinking into his skin, warming him straight through.  Blaine's eyes are wide, fixed on Kurt's face, and Kurt can feel Blaine breathing shallowly underneath him and God, it's good, but he has to be _sure_ , so he asks "Is this what you wanted?" in a voice that's a little breathier, a little huskier, than he wants it to be.    
  
"Yes," Blaine whispers, his breath hitching in his chest, and the tip of his tongue darts out to lick at his full, pink lips, and it's so much, _too_ much, and Kurt has to settle his weight fully on top of Blaine's body, pinning him down as he leans in, carefully tilting his head, and finally presses their lips together, soft and slow and perfect.  And Blaine just sinks into it, his lips parting when Kurt pushes at them, letting Kurt lick in and taste him, whiskey sours and the slightest edge of sweet cherry and God, Kurt just wants everything, so he pins Blaine's hands down into the softness of the pillows underneath him and takes and takes and _takes_ until he can't breathe anymore and has to pull back, turning his head so he can rub his lips and then his cheek against the scratchiness of Blaine's stubble, grounding himself with the faint burn as he tries to pull himself together again.  
  
"God," he murmurs, eyes still closed.  "God, _Blaine_ \--"  
  
"Kurt," Blaine whimpers, and Kurt shushes him, finally letting go of Blaine's hands so he can trail his fingertips soothingly down the smooth skin of Blaine's wrists, skimming up his shirtsleeves until they finally come to rest on Blaine's (strong, firm, squeezable, God so _good_ ) biceps.  Blaine's arms close around him, keeping the two of them pressed tight together even though Kurt's not planning on going anywhere right now, nuzzling behind Blaine's ear so he can breathe in the scent of Blaine's cologne and soap and skin.  "Kurt, you need to know -- I mean, obviously, you're not my first, but I'm not -- I _don't_ \--"  
  
"Hey," Kurt says, pushing himself back enough so he can look down into Blaine's face, his wide eyes dark gold in the dim light of Kurt's apartment, his lips parted and his cheeks flushed; Blaine's hands clutch hard at the back of Kurt's shirt, but he doesn't pull him down again, doesn't try to silence him (although God knows he could).  "Look, I'm in the same business you are, okay?  I'm not assuming anything.  I promise you.  And I'm not going to think any less of you, no matter...  No matter what, Blaine.  Whether you have or whether you haven't.  I don't care.  I really don't.  I promise."  
  
Blaine nods at him, but he swallows hard all the same, his eyes somehow impossibly wider and darker than they were before.  "I just..."  He takes a deep breath and Kurt's body rises and falls with the movement.  "But every guy I've ever been with, I've always kind of hoped...  I always hoped they'd be the last one, you know?"  
  
Kurt's heart stutters in his chest, and there's nothing he can do but let himself sink down into the welcoming warmth of Blaine's body, pressing kiss after kiss to the stubble that spreads down from Blaine's cheeks to the underside of his chin, only catching himself when his lips find the flutter of Blaine's pulse, quick and steady underneath the warmth of his skin.  "Blaine," he whispers, so overcome by what he thinks, what he _hopes_ , Blaine is offering him that he can't even find it in himself to worry that they're moving too fast.  "We'll go as slow as you want to; we'll take our time; I won't push or rush or do anything if you're not comfortable; I just..."  
  
"I trust you," Blaine says, his voice a little choked, and one of his hands slides up Kurt's back, pulling his shirt up as it spreads across his shoulder, grazing his neck briefly before his fingers tangle in Kurt's hair, not pulling him back or pushing him down, just holding on.  Because that's what this is going to be like, with Blaine -- Kurt can already tell.  It's the way Blaine lets himself sink under Kurt's weight, the way he holds his breath before Kurt kisses him, the way he repeats Kurt's name, over and over, like it's the only thing that matters.  Blaine will give him everything, but only if Kurt has the courage to reach out and take it from his hands.  "I trust you, Kurt."  
  
Kurt nods, his nose grazing the warm skin of Blaine's neck.  He shifts his hips until he can feel where Blaine is already hard in his jeans, lining their bodies up until Blaine gasps and arches his back, his hips jerking up, the friction between them sending sparks up Kurt's spine.  And then he pushes Blaine back down, not too hard but just enough, his hands coming up to cup Blaine's face and hold him steady there so he can kiss him and kiss him and _kiss_ him, Blaine's right hand still cupping the back of his head, his left pulling desperately at Kurt's shirt as he arches up and Kurt presses down and their hips find a rhythm, just like dancing, their bodies working together like this is all they were ever made for.  
  
Blaine comes first, tearing his mouth away from Kurt's with a gasp, his whole body tensing as he arches into Kurt, the two of them suspended in that moment for the longest time until Blaine finally exhales again, his whole body sagging limp into the bed, and Kurt wants to follow him so badly but he won't let himself, hovers over Blaine even though his thighs are trembling and his arms shake and he's so strung up he can barely stand it but he won't, he _can't_ , not until Blaine's eyes finally flutter open again and his gaze focuses on Kurt's face, reading the strain there.    
  
"Oh God," Blaine says, and reaches up to bury his fingers in Kurt's hair, pulling him back down so he can mouth at Kurt's neck, his free hand resting gently on the bulge in Kurt's jeans, feeling out the shape of him as Kurt whimpers and tries to stop his hips from pushing into Blaine's touch.  "No, God, Kurt, you can, you can, I want you to, Kurt _please_ \--"  And Kurt gives into it, rubbing desperately into the pressure of Blaine's hand and gasping into Blaine's hair until Blaine's hand tightens and his teeth press just right against the soft skin of Kurt's neck and the string holding Kurt tight finally snaps, and he comes hard, still riding Blaine's hand as the aftershocks tremble through him, leaving him boneless and breathless and completely exhausted, clinging to Blaine's slight solid body like he'll fall right off the bed if he doesn't.  
  
"So good," Blaine mumbles, the movement of his lips against Kurt's skin making him shiver, even if he's too exhausted to do much else right now.  "God, Kurt..."  
  
"Just so you know," Kurt says, the words shaky and probably just barely audible.  "I don't...  I mean, the guys I've been with, I've always wanted...  What you want, I want that too.  I always have."  
  
Blaine's soft "Oh," is little more than hot breath against Kurt's neck.  But the way he wraps his arms around Kurt's back, holding him close...  Well, that pretty much says everything.  
  
They have to break apart eventually, blushing and averting their eyes as they peel their way out of soiled jeans and sticky briefs; Kurt thinks briefly about leaving his shirt on but decides that that's too ridiculous.  And when Blaine comes up behind him while he stands in front of his bathroom sink, wetting a washcloth down, a quick glance in the mirror reveals that Blaine had the same thought.  And even though it's nothing Kurt hasn't seen before, it still makes his breath catch, because Blaine is just...  _beautiful_ , broad and muscular and golden and glorious, and Kurt can't imagine how stupid someone would have to be to not want this forever, but apparently some people really are just that stupid, because Blaine is here.  Blaine is here with him.    
  
And Kurt's never been stupid.  
  
And he's not starting now.  
  
"That wasn't..."  Blaine bites his lip, keeping his eyes up even when Kurt looks down to...  well, to clean himself up a little bit.  "I just...  you said you wanted to take it slow and I guess I just wanted to make sure that that was what you meant when you...  When you said that you..."  
  
"Honestly?"  Kurt rinses the cloth off, squeezes the extra moisture out of it, then turns and leans back against the sink, ignoring how cold it is against his bare skin.  He reaches out with one hand and catches Blaine's waist, tugging him even closer.  The first touch of the damp cloth against Blaine's inner thigh makes Blaine catch his breath, one hand settling on Kurt's shoulder for support as he stares down at Kurt gently, carefully cleaning him up.  "It wasn't, exactly.  But I think as long as we're on the same page, and I think we _are_ , then..."  
  
"I trust you," Blaine says again, and when Kurt pulls back, the damp cloth still tight in his hand, he raises his eyes to meet Kurt's.  "I trust you, Kurt."  
  
"Good," Kurt says, and leans in to press a quick kiss to the corner of Blaine's mouth, turning away before Blaine can return it.  "Because the only spare toothbrush in this bathroom belongs to Mercedes, and she does _not_ share, so you're going to have to use mine."  
  
"'Kay," Blaine says, and when Kurt turns back to the sink, he sees Blaine beaming at him in the mirror.  
  
Their eyes meet in the glass, and he smiles back.    
  
And the truth is, they probably are moving too fast.  Or, at least, that's what Mercedes would say, and probably Kurt's father too, and probably everyone else Kurt knows.  But when Blaine's arm settles around Kurt's waist, keeping him in place as he brushes his teeth, it feels like home.  It feels like forever.  
  
It feels like Blaine will be the _last_ , and Kurt is so ready for that.


End file.
